My cup

I have this ONE cup. Somehow the coffee just tastes different in this cup. If I'm forced to drink my coffee from a different cup, I'd just almost rather not drink it at all, and that's saying a lot.

I was brought up to put others first, be kind at any cost, etc. You know...the whole southern hospitality thing. But when it comes to this cup.... If a guest inadvertently chooses MY cup, I have to say, "um....that's my cup." I know it's strange, and it's so insignificant, but still. I'm not really sure why anyone else would want MY cup anyway. The glass is etched from too many stirrings, and milky from too many trips through the dishwasher. But it's my cup. It's a huge part of my morning routine.

Of all the things to be selfish about....